


Live Wire

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: NCIS: New Orleans
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, brief mentions of sex, literally just sleeping in a bed together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9482564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: He’s got a buzzing under his skin. Feels like his nerves are electrified.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for mentions of potential sexual content...which I may actually follow up with if I can motivate myself enough. First foray into the fandom so fingers crossed!
> 
> Set at some undisclosed point in season one, no spoilers.

The building’s dark the way it only is this late at night, lit by a few emergency lights and the moon sitting bloated, low in the sky. It shines through the large loft windows casting shadows wherever it doesn’t reach. The familiar sounds of New Orleans nightlife filter in from outside. The celebration of life, of death, of being, never ends here.

His shirt is sticky with the heat of the bar he’d been in. He’d spent his evening sitting in his apartment going over paperwork, working on his Lego sculptures, keeping his mind busy. Nothing had helped. His apartment felt too small, constricting, choking the breath out of him.

He’s got a buzzing under his skin. Feels like his nerves are electrified.

It reminds him of when he was little, visiting his aunts farm.

He’d been young and invincible and dared to grab the electric fence penning the cows in. He’d been hit by a pulse as he wrapped his fist around that wire; a quick shock and he’d let go, startled, but the feeling had lingered under his skin long after.

He’s got that feeling tonight—like he’d grabbed that fence and just hadn’t let go.

So he’d gone out, lost himself in one bar after another; had men and women press up against him, offer him drinks, offer him more.

It didn’t help. His eyes feel gritty with two days without sleep. His mouth is dry but his body is singing. They’ve had a lull; quiet weeks always get to him. Busy days run him to the ground, wear him out. Help him quiet his mind. When he goes out then it’s for the pleasure of it, the strangers he’s surrounded by, the music singing in his veins. He’s not ashamed to admit he’s addicted to New Orleans.

His boots don’t make much noise as he pads down the hall. Kings door is unlocked when he tries the handle. It’s darker in there; the moon is in the wrong position for the wall of windows. He can make out the shapes of a dresser and bed, a familiar lump in the middle of the mattress. He kicks off his boots and jeans, belt clinking as it hits the floor, almost too loud for the time of night.

“It’s late.” Kings voice is rough from sleep. It’s like a caress in the dark; he can feel it brush against his skin.

He shrugs out of his shirt feeling the remaining sweat on his skin from his night, from the heat that’s sunk its claws into the city.

“Almost four.” He murmurs voice unnaturally loud against the strains of distant music. “Sorry.”

King holds up the edge of the sheet and Christopher slides easily into his embrace.

“I said anytime, didn’t I?” King makes sure he’s covered with sheets warmed from sleep and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close. They tangle their legs together, one of King’s firm thighs pressed between his own. It would be easy as breathing to rock against him, feel King harden in response. Let King push him back into the mattress and forget about sleep for the moment. Kings thumb rubs soothing patterns low on his back.

In the morning before the others get in, he’ll crawl down the bed, rest between Kings legs, spread his thighs with his broad shoulders and wrap his lips around his cock. It’s his favorite way to wake the man up, loves the weight of it on his tongue, how his lips feel obscenely stretched. He loves the way Kings eyelashes flutter, lips parted as he hardens in his mouth, barely awake.

“Think you can sleep?”

Some nights he can’t, content to lie wrapped up in Kings arms, waiting for the world to quiet down enough.

The buzz of electricity humming under his skin settles a bit with Kings touch.

“Yeah, I reckon so.” He presses his face to Kings neck, breathing him in.


End file.
